


can't kid a kidder, won’t fool a sister

by clytemnestras



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Semi-Epistolary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 21:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7192316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy confides in me</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't kid a kidder, won’t fool a sister

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kwritten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/gifts).



> (this shows a truly blatant disregard for historical timelines but considering I don’t care for much shorter, fictional timelines, what were you expecting? that being said it takes place approx. between 1780 and 1801 and is taking some very minor historical cues from wikipedia as i was too lazy to do proper research)

Only a certain fool would think a Schuyler sister a shrinking violet, and Margarita is not so timid as much as a shallow but concentrated form of the shrewdness that runs through the blood. Folded hands can mean far more than their surface value. They can lie.

When she first speaks to Alexander he offers her his hand for a dance and she smiles her acceptance, more than the space needed for her skirts between them, her touch light on his skin. They glide easily together, her dress spanning the floor as a weightless sweep of iridescence, her sisters bracketing them on either side like wings to a stage and glancing at them both and she _laughs._

Her whole face is lit with it and he’s struck with how young she is.

She taps him on the shoulder and leans in close. “My sisters are both so enchanted by you”, she says. Alexander straightens himself and smiles, goes to speak, and “- I’m not so sure I see the allure.”

She spins from him with only a touch of grace and trades him easily for another dance partner, leaving his arms open for a sister of hers to take the space. From across the room her eyes are still shining her amusement, and she brings one finger to her lips, mouthing a  _hush._

*

She writes him sometimes when the world is pressing ungraciously on her shoulders and she is tired by it, or amused by herself and everyone else is hopelessly preoccupied. Her letters aren’t especially revealing. Apart from when they are hurtfully so.

 _I am full up to overflowing with fear,_ she writes. _The thought of war excites my sisters but it tires me. I dread to think of what may become of us all if it falls to pieces, my family ruined in a fell swoop - you, my father, and my sisters in one._

Sometimes her letters are far harder to reply to than her sister’s. Nothing could mean less to her than his charms of trickery.

 _The revolution is worth it_ is the best response he can give her. He believes above all in himself and the extension of that he calls a country.

 _You sound like Eliza._ He thinks there is nothing he would prefer to sound like.

She wishes war were not necessary, wishes he could just stay and make her sister(s) happy, wishes she did not have thoughts like divination, where he comes home with holes that are mirrored in her sisters and she plays those games they did as children to sutre their wounds. Her mother’s doctor would let them watch him, sometimes, and they would practise on each other in case.

*

“Alexander, how lovely it is to see you.” Peggy threads her arms through his and kisses his cheeks the way Lafayette told her Frenchmen tend to do. “I’m sure your visit delights my sisters.”

He takes her hand. “And you?”

She laughs delightedly and pulls her hand from his. “Oh, be decent, I am a much sought woman.”

He crosses his arms and sniffs. “And who might be seeking you?”

“Alex don’t be so tiresome. I have brothers for that.” He scowls and she pinches his cheek. “Oh brother-dear, don’t look so glum.”

All of the women of the house can disarm him as easily as he can formulate thoughts, and he cannot begrudge any of them it. “Did your sisters send you to frighten me away at the door?”

“I’m sure they’d prefer I didn’t. And Eliza should be on her way home from the post office with father’s letters soon. Until then, I’m here to amuse or frighten you, I suppose.”

“Frighten away.”

*

She feels both tired and full of joy, her joints sore and oldest sister’s head tipped heavily onto her shoulder.

Alexander leads his bride out onto the ballroom floor, every corner of the room seeming dimmed by their elated faces. Eliza looks beautiful, completely, utterly beautiful in her wedding dress, and Peggy knows the teary shine to her eyes is reflected in Angelica’s, that they love the both of them so. 

“They look beautiful don’t they?” She watches how they dance together, easy as breathing and just as miraculous. “I’m not sure anyone else would have managed either of them, how righteous they both are.”

Angelica takes her hand and squeezes it. “There is a lack of hope for us yet.”

“Don’t be so sullen.” She shrugs her sister off and moves towards the floor, ready for her sister’s dance to end so she might cut in. “May I?”

Alexander takes her hand. “In my experience, you only ever want to dance when you have something to say.” He squeezes her hand where it fits in his. “What is it tonight?”

“I wish you both a lifetime of happinesses with one another." He looks so fond she thinks he might be breaking his own heart and she feels the spikes of fire-lined humour spread through her blood. "And if you do hurt her I hope you know we were not raised to be women brother-dear, we are much fiercer than that.”

  
*

She writes him soon after Eliza leaves for New Windsor, hoping to beat her to him, but not concerned if she does not. It’s no trouble to her if they share no secrets.

_There is a man I wish the world of, Alex. His name is Van Rensselaer, and he has asked for my hand. I thought it only right I tell you first, since you were so concerned for the state of my hands, brother-dear._

She wanders the house with a smile, asking Angelica if she has anything she wishes to post and folds both letters into the one envelope.

*

At the wedding he asks her for a dance and she happily concedes. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and whispers, “Everything was beautiful.”

She glances over his shoulder to where Angelica and her father are bearing over Stephen in a way that might have worried her had she not been distracted.

“And I suppose you and Eliza wish to visit over winter?”

He spins her and then draws her back, every inch of them sharing joy. “Sister-dear I can only hope.”

“I’m tired, Alex”, she confesses. Her tired spells have been drawing out longer and longer into her time and she won’t let Stephen or her sisters worry for her, but with him she is not afraid to let herself slip ever so slightly.

He promises her nothing ill will come of her, the world would not let it.

*

After the wedding, Stephen takes her away to visit Harvard college for a short time, and she becomes enchanted with it. Seeing the places his gorgeous mind was formed only last year stuns her. It’s suddenly simple to understand Angelica’s eternal ache for intellectual stimulation when she's stood in a place like this, the gardens swelling up to meet the stones, everyone sharing books and letters like they do air.

She writes her sisters about the place, how carefree it makes her feel and echoes the sentiments in Eliza’s letter with asides meant for Alexander, about the hungry young men here, trading their self-indulgent thoughts like currency. She feels so full of light and air she wishes to share it with them all, Stephen by her side and the world in her care.

*

The battles for the country worsen and she feels so sick with fear again, like the past five years have been stolen and she is lost once more clinging to Eliza’s feet praying no more blows will come.

If things escalate, Stephen will have to go to war.

_I am petrified of his leave, Alexander, as I fear for you, as I feared for father. I believe the country destined for hope and future glories, but cannot say what I am willing to pay for it. I am sick with fear. Sick as I have ever been. I do not wish to worry you, but I worry myself with it sometimes._

His reply is as swift as ever. _You are a blessing, sister-dear. Rest, your family need you well._

Stephen kisses her hair as she reads him the letter. “That family of yours will always confound me.”

She chides him and ruffles his hair. “I feel for him as keenly as he were my blood. And I feel for you more keenly than even that.”

He smiles up at her, leaning up for a kiss like parting with her is agony. “I do hope so.”

*

Alexander comes home when her ills begin to worsen, swifter and more worrisome than anyone was prepared for. Even Angelica marvels at how she brightens upon his arrival.

“Brother-dear,” she says, reaching up from her bed to embrace him. “To think I worried you may miss this.”

“Sister-dear, George himself could not have kept me.”

  
She coughs and Alex accepts the glass of water from Eliza and brings it to her lips. She smiles as  brilliantly as the night they first danced. “I would have expected nothing less.”

 


End file.
